


4AM Phone Call

by touchmymachete



Category: Mötley Crüe, The Dirt (2019)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Sexual Content, nikki's like woah but he gets into eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-31 23:44:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20248612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/touchmymachete/pseuds/touchmymachete
Summary: "Nikki, come on," the voice complains, and it takes me a second to identify just who the fuck it was ringing me at...I pause, rolling on my side so that I could squint at the alarm clock.Four in the goddamn morning.





	4AM Phone Call

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea brewing ever since I read 'The Dirt', but it didn't fully manifest until I finished watching the biopic of the book, haha. Just a quick little phone call, that's all! Feel free to envision The Dirt's Crüe or the Crüe's Crüe for this, entirely up to you!
> 
> Additionally this is my first submission (on AO3) so I hope it's alright! <3

_[1984]_

"Nikki."

"Mm."

"Nikki, come on," the voice complains, and it takes me a second to identify just _who the fuck_ it was ringing me at...

I pause, rolling on my side so that I could squint at the alarm clock.

Four in the goddamn morning. It was four in the morning and I was _awake_. I had only slept an hour and a half and _I was awake_. I felt like informing said caller and letting them have a piece of my mind, because no way in hell was I about to give up a good night's rest for a phone call.

"You're aware..." I pinch my eyes shut.

"What?"

"Just how fucking _early_ it is, yeah? You check the time lately, pal?"

The person groans, and suddenly the receiver is full of shuffly, tinny static. The crumple of fabric gives me the image of someone wiggling around in their bed sheets, trying to get comfortable. "Yeah," they say, and oh- Tommy? "Hey man. Look- I'm sorry for wakin' you up, if that's what I did-"

"It's what you did."

"Uh huh. Sorry," he repeats himself, sounding the least bit sorry. There's more shuffling on his end of the line, the softest of metallic clinking just barely reaching my ear. "You remember what room I'm in right? E twenty-seven, floor ni-"

"I'm about two seconds away from hanging up on your dumb ass and going back to sleep," I drawl and Tommy exhales sharply.

"Shut up for two seconds instead, asshole. I'm handcuffed to my bed and I gotta piss."

My eyes snap open once more. I squint at the clock, the metal arms ticking away as they count down the seconds, and let my head fall back into my pillow with a sigh. I was awake at four thirty in the morning, on the phone with Tommy, who had to pee. Handcuffed to a bed. _At four fucking thirty in the morning._

I close my eyes again as I ask, "Couldn't call Doc first?"

"Who do you think cuffed me to my fuckin' bed, dude?" Tommy snaps. I can hear him jingling his cuffs a little harder in the background, and envisioned him jerking around with the intensity of his words. Tom was always an expressive person, after all. His body language spoke volumes... Not that his mouth didn't either. He's just an all-around expressive person in general, I guess. Always has been.

"I don't know where my clothes are," I mutter. "I didn't shower. I still have make up on my face." Half true- I was still fully clothed as far as I knew. The gig we played was a long and strenuous one; and I was all out of juice. The coke had long since washed out from my system, and I was dragging hard as fuck. No way could I get up and get dressed- much less seek Tommy out and find a way to uncuff him without keys. "You're shit outta luck. Try calling Vince, he has the room on the same floor as you. Remember?" Silence. My fingers go lax around the phone. "Night, T."

I reach over to slam the receiver back into its cradle and return to my much needed dream state, but freeze when Tommy shouts a panicked "Wait!" into the line.

Begrudgingly, I lift the plastic back up to my face. "Yeah?"

"Hold- okay, just- Wait a sec," he blurts and I furrow my brows. Concern starts to creep in when he says, "stay on the line with me then, at least. Please, man."

"You good?"

Ever the open book, Tommy doesn't beat around the bush. "I'm kinda wiggin' out. I don't like not being able to move. I can't even stand up, man- I'm freakin' out big time. Feels like some kinda claustrophobia shit except-- Except not being able to move or somethin'."

Anger curls in my gut. Does he know how much I had been looking forward to tonight? To sleeping? Sleeping without rousing at ungodly hours of the morning to wretch from a hangover?

"I'm gonna break the bed frame," he states, tone dark.

"Don't break the bed, Tommy."

"I'm gonna break it." God I hated him sometimes.

"Alright! Alright. I'm here. I'll, fuck- I'll stay on the fuckin' line. Just don't fuck the bed up, Elektra's already on our ass enough about destruction of property and shit as it is." I can practically feel Tommy's pride swell from across the hotel, his giddy aura palpable as it spills outta the receiver and straight into my ear canal.

"Thank fuck!" He crows. "Jesus. Thanks dude. I owe you."

"Damn right you owe me," I snarl, contemplating hanging up anyway. I wouldn't in the end though- as much as I might want to. Vince wasn't the type to humor Tommy's antics, and Mick would probably repeatedly lift the phone up only to slam it down again anytime someone called; regardless of who it was. I was his best friend... And his only choice by default. Fucking damn it.

"Talk to me so I stay awake then," I growl, reaching up to brush a few strands of hair away from my mouth. The taste of hair product lingers on my tongue when Tommy finally lands on a topic.

"Good show last night huh?" He asks, and I want to die. I actually want to die. As if we weren't asked this question on a regular fucking basis, by roadies and fans and producers and _each other_ alike. I bite my tongue to keep myself from boiling over as I push out a short,

"Mhm."

"Take any chicks back to the room with you?"

That's a little better. "Nah. Not tonight," I reply, tilting my head to the side as I spoke. The room was just barely tinting a deep, saccharine blue; the beginnings of the sun peeking over the city. "To be honest I just drank myself under the table and went back to the hotel to sleep, man. I didn't have any energy to fuck yesterday."

"Oh," Tommy replies, the sound flat and bewildered. He seems baffled I wouldn't be balls deep after a performance like that, and honestly? I'm a little surprised too.

"Maybe it's 'cause I didn't really eat anything."

"Hm. You think?"

I shrug before realizing Tommy can't see it. "Yeah, I guess." A brief pause in conversation. "What about you?"

"Ah? Oh- Yeah! Well, kind of. She gave a shitty blowjob and ran off when a couple of other people showed up. Guess she didn't like an audience."

I snort, Tommy mimicking me right after. "At a Crüe concert? She's worried about people watching?"

"That's what I said! Hey, fuck her though, right? There's always the day after tomorrow."

"There's always any time, T-Bone. Finding a girl isn't hard."

More shuffling echoes from the other line, and once again I'm imagining Tommy trying to get comfortable on his bed. It wasn't the first time he'd been handcuffed, but it _was_ the first time he'd woken up before five in the afternoon following. He chuckles when he murmurs, "Guess you're right."

I hum, exhaling heavily through my nose. "Shut up. I'm always right."

More silence. My brain swirls vividly as soon as my mouth stops moving, and I'm on the cusp of sleep in a matter of seconds.

"I didn't even get to finish off," Tommy says out of the blue, and I'm awake again.

"Didn't you take it to the bathroom or something?"

Tommy jingles his handcuffs again and my sleep-addled brain paints a picture of him reclining against the pillows; legs spread in his leather pants and chest bare of any sort of shirts or straps. "Nope. No point, dude! Who jacks off at their own fucking after party? I considered finding someone else, but that was before I got _real_ fucked up."

"Mm. Mhm."

"Still horny as shit though." More shuffling. I'm suddenly a lot less tired than I was half a second ago. "And my fun hand is strapped to the bed frame. This fucking blows."

"Your _fun_ hand?"

There's a loud burst of laughter from Tommy's line, along with the soft static of something rubbing against the phone. His hair maybe? "Yup. So now I'm stuck with one hand hangin' above my head, the other holdin' a phone, and a fuckin' boner hard enough to cut diamonds."

I freeze, eyes widening in the dark. What the hell? Why's he still talking about his dick?  
"You what?"

"I could probably club someone to death with it, dude. Shit's solid as hell."

"Jesus Christ. I hope it's me," I hiss irritably, the awkward topic making my face heat up like I'd been sunburnt. I vaguely register it as a blush, because fuck knows how long it's been since the last time I've actually fucking _blushed_; let alone _blushed_ because of _Tommy_.

From the receiver, Tommy's oddly silent. I feel grateful for the moment of peace, but become suspicious when Tommy swallows loud enough for the audio to pick up. "You shouldn't say that kinda shit, Nik."

Confusion evident, I can feel my expression twist into a scowl. "Huh?"

"Don't make me think about boners. And you. And beating you to death with boners."

Now it's my turn to swallow. The answer was vague, playful even, but it sounded strange in my head. "You'd rather do it gently instead, or something? Give me a cock slap?" I ask, and the strangled noise Tommy makes is brain-rattling.

"I'd do a lot more than that," he damn near fucking _moans_ and- oh God, what the fuck? My face is on fire and I can feel a sweat breaking out underneath all the makeup I couldn't be bothered to wash off. He took my words as an invitation.

"Tommy-" I warn.

"Wanna hear some of the shit I'd do, Sixx?"

I can't believe this. It feels like I'm in middle school again, ready to make a run for the hallway to try and dodge my crush's prying eyes. Tommy starts moving around again, jostling the phone, and I'm- I-

I'm at a loss for fucking words.

"Nikki?"

"What would you do?" I ask slowly. I feel gross for even thinking about entertaining Tommy-- drunk, coked-out Tommy-- but the curiosity is too great to resist. I'd always been an inquisitive person, I think. I don't know. I'm not sure I even had an excuse for letting those words slip through my teeth. Maybe I was still drunk, too.

Tommy lets out a shuddery breath. "First of all, I wouldn't club you. I'd fuckin' _skewer_ you. Like a shish kabob."

"Oh, fuck off."

A chuckle, low and throaty, reaches my ear. "Naw, I'm just messing with you. Well- partially. I'd skewer you, just not in a cartoony way. Not in a Loony Tunes kinda way."

"Ah-?"

"I'd fuck you," he admits, and I can almost hear the one-shouldered shrug. "You look like a girl half the time anyway."

"_Lee-_" I try to get a word in edge-wise, but he cuts me off again.

"Except I could probably fuckin'... I don't know. Staple you to the mattress, I guess? I can't be rough with girls, man, they're all soft and shit. But _you_..." I hold my breath, jaw clenched hard. "You could take it, couldn't you?"

I wanted to throw myself right out the window. I wanted to plummet some seven stories to my untimely death, right now. _Right fucking now_. My head swam with the horrible, terrible image of Tommy shucking his pants down to the middle of his thighs, long fingers wrapping around himself and just going to town while we spoke.

I was hard, but _like fuck_ was I going to do anything about it. This was a whole other level of debauched, even for me.

"Shit. Yeah-" Oh, he was _totally_ touching himself. "Grab your hair, or something. You'd probably like your hair pulled, huh? You seem like it."

I didn't speak, just continued to stare at my ceiling with a blank expression. My cock twitched painfully within the confines of its leather prison, reminding me that- hey! Maybe I didn't hate this as much as I was trying to convince myself I did, and- hey! It wanted some action too. _Awful_.

Tommy didn't seem to mind my lack of input.

"I'd get ya nice and slippery first, though. I'm not, like, evil. Lube up some fingers and just- yeah, finger you. It'd hurt at first, I think, but you'd open up real easy 'cause I know you get off to that pain shit. One finger, then two, then three-"

"Tommy," I whine, squirming in my sheets. I don't know why I was letting him continue, or why I hadn't hung up yet, but the bottom line was I was still lingering and Tommy took full advantage of this.

"Drummers are real good with their hands, you know? I bet you'd cum just from that alone. There's this little spot in your ass- Wait, no! Wait, ah- We'll save that for later. 'Cause after you're nice and worked open, that's when this beast comes out to play." There's a lot of emphasis on 'this' and 'beast', and I have no doubt in my mind he's squeezing his dick with a smug expression on his face. Fucker.

"Actually. Second thought. Maybe I wouldn't prepare you at all," he says, sounding dazed. There's a rhythmic sound filtering through his side of the line, and- yeah, okay, he's going at it. Why didn't I realize that already? "I'd just slam in, no prep. I'd slick myself up first, sure but- you'd be deflowered right off the bat, huh? I'd hold your hair and slide home on the first thrust. And.. Fuck, you'd like that. It'd hurt but you could take it, couldn't you?" He repeated his question, and it prompted a reply.

"I could take it," I whisper.

"Fuck yeah you could," he groans, voice strained and gravelly and- fuck it. Fuck it!

I reach down and loosen the ties on my pants with one hand, shimmying them down far enough to hook a thumb in my underwear and let my own suffering dick pop free. Cold air hits my clammy, heated flesh and I hiss; drawing Tommy's attention raptly.

"Are you- fuck, Nik... Are you-?"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up," I seethe, but the words are soft and definitely not laced with anger like I want them to be. A heavy pulse rocks through my entire nervous system when I get a loose grip on myself and I curse, not sure whether I should be mortified or relieved that I'm already close to popping off this early into the session.

"Mmm," Tommy breathes into the receiver, and I can almost feel it on the back of my neck, the shell of my ear; heating and chilling the sweat-dampened skin. "You really should have came and uncuffed me, Nik-Nok. Look at all the fun we could have been having."

"_None_ of this would have been happening if I had uncuffed you," I huff, and he laughs because he knows I'm right. I would have came back to bed and slept and none of this would have even surfaced to begin with.

"Yeah. No, yeah- you're right. It's better like this, though... _Fuck_, Nikki, I can _hear_ you," he moans, and I don't know why, but that sends a spark of excitement rocketing through me harder than I'm used to feeling.

My hand jerks faster when he says, "All because I explained how I'd like to fuck you," and I don't know why. I don't know how to feel about that either, so I don't linger on the thought.

My fist is a blur in the scarce light of the room, thumb swiping over the wet tip as I work myself to completion. In my ear I can hear Tommy doing just the same, the occasional grunt fueling my hand to pump all the faster.

"You know what else?" He purrs after a moment, and I hum breathlessly in reply. "God- fuck- it's such a clear picture in my head, Sixx. You've got your legs wrapped around my waist and I'm- And I have one hand around your neck, holding you there, while the other one's supporting your back so you don't fuckin' fall. Got you up against the wall, and shit- I'm fuckin' you so hard you're _bouncing_ up the wall, man. Ah hah-" he pauses, letting out a sound akin to a wheeze, before he picks up again, "Shit, shit, shit- I want that. God, for so long- I just wanna-"

His words are getting lost in his gasps, his moans- there's a continual shuffle of noise crackling through the receiver and I'm realizing that it's Tommy's arm jerking furiously away, bumping into the phone with each upstroke.

"I want that, too," I confess into the empty room, mind running rampant. Tommy's groan is filthy and loud and _anything_ but innocent.

"You want that?"

"_Yes_," I breathe, toes curling. I can feel my climax rushing to meet me and it takes all I can to slow down; to alert the drummer panting like a dog on the other side of the call that I was close.

"Oh- thank god, 'cause I'm-" Tommy swallows, and it sounds like he ran a mile or three, "- I've been on the edge for like the past five minutes." The information, for whatever reason, was enough to push me right on the edge with him, threatening to topple over at any second.

"Hey, I'm gonna-" I trail off, the words barely above a whisper. One more stroke and I was there, just one more quick motion, _just one more-_

Tommy chokes, and if I were to guess, he'd already found his completion. "Fuck! F-fuck, _Nik_," he stammers, throat tight, straining, and yeah he most certainly fucking found it-

I came without having to use that final stroke after all, but I helped myself through it; arching up, up, _up_ off the bed with a strangled, wordless cry. Lights were blinding as they flickered behind my eyelids, flashing, a few vaguely taking the shape of Tommy and his fucked-out smile, something I'd only seen a handful of times, but this time it was because of _me_ and not some nameless groupie-

"Tommy," I sigh, shuddering when my touch becomes too much. I pull my cum-soaked hand away from myself the moment Tommy murmurs his reply, wiping it on the comforter.

"Yeah?"

"What the fuck?" I say, chest heaving to catch my breath. He snickers in that infuriating Tommy sort of way, but I can't even bring myself to feel annoyed. I was brained, through and through.

"That was probably... Mm..." He pauses, and I can almost _hear_ him think, "_the_ hottest thing I've ever done. Phone sex is already pretty hot but- Shit, Nikki-"

"I need to shower," I blurt, embarrassment pumping thick through my veins. I was covered in sweat, makeup, and spunk, and an awkward chat with Tommy wasn't in my best interest at the moment. Or ever, preferably.

"Mind coming to help get me out of these fuckin' cuffs when you're done?" He asks, and dammit, I had forgotten all about his home arrest.

I mull it over. "You gonna jump me as soon as you're free?"

"There's a chance. A big, fat fuckin' chance, yeah."

With a ball of nerves twisting in my gut, I sit up and eye the stack of room keys scattered across the night stand. "Nah. Now I'm even more tired than I was before you called. You'll figure it out."

Tommy splutters an indignant "but I still have to pee!" the moment I slam the receiver back into its cradle and gather myself to my feet, eyes still occasionally sweeping over the key card to room E twenty-seven, on floor level nine.

I'd consider it...

But not before that shower.


End file.
